


Tastes Like the Void

by wolfbunny



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Body Horror, Cruelty, Giant/Tiny, M/M, Macro/Micro, Tentacles, but just very weird, does this even count as vore, i guess, nothing actually nsfw, nothing even really super fetishy, sans being mean, tell me what else i need to tag here, the watering can is so dom, trypophobia tw maybe, vore tw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-06
Updated: 2017-06-06
Packaged: 2018-11-09 23:12:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11114883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfbunny/pseuds/wolfbunny
Summary: Sans messes around with Gaster. Watering cans and brownie mix are involved. Warnings in tags.





	Tastes Like the Void

**Author's Note:**

  * For [idontevenknowugh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/idontevenknowugh/gifts).



> Uggy dared me. Not really, but she encouraged me to try and write a dom!Sans, so blame her :3  
> Just kidding, blame me, I wrote it.  
> I also stole a bunch of ideas from people who were in the stream and I'm not sure who said what. Watering can was mine though X3
> 
> [Oh look, a picture](http://nom-the-skel.tumblr.com/post/161548923885/tastes-like-the-void)

It started innocently enough when Sans, glad to have his lover back from the void even if in significantly altered form, idly lifted up a handful of Gaster’s ooze as they were cuddling.

“Oh,” Sans observed. “It comes apart.”

Gaster looked down at the handful of goo with mild trepidation.

“We should experiment. Can you still feel it?” Sans massaged the goo in his phalanges.

“Yes, unless it gets too far away.”

“We should definitely experiment.” Sans stood up and walked a few steps away. “Can you feel it now?” He poked it with his other hand to make sure there was something to feel.

“Yes, but—” Sans wasn’t taking any actual measurements.

“How about now?” Sans turned and threw the lump of goo, like a baseball, at the opposite wall.

“Hey!” Gaster protested.

“Well, can you?”

Gaster paused. “Actually, no.” He hadn’t even felt the impact with the wall. “Can I have it back now?”

“Wait, I want to see if it kind of oozes back to you on its own.”

“I don’t think it does that once it’s been disconnected.”

They both watched the lump of goo as it finished sliding down the wall and sat motionless on the floor.

“I guess not,” Sans concurred, stepping back over to Gaster and grabbing a fresh handful of ooze.

“Hey, wait. At least put that one back first.”

“It’s all the way over there.”

“Sans.”

Sans looked thoughtfully at the new handful of goo. “I’ve got an idea.” He rushed enthusiastically to get something out of a cabinet.

Gaster stood up—or at least formed his mass of goo into a vertical column of sorts, and slid across the room to reunite with the first missing handful, which oozed toward him once he was in range again. Sans certainly seemed to have plenty of energy _now_.

“Ah-hah!” Sans turned around to triumphantly reveal his find, a silver colander.

“Why do we even have that in the lab?”

“Bunsen burner pasta.” Sans grabbed a large beaker that was sitting on the counter and plopped his handful of Gaster goop into the colander, holding it above the container.

Gaster had approached the counter to see what Sans was doing and found he could feel the bits of himself that were dripping through the holes of the colander. “Urgh! Sans, what are you doing?”

“Seeing how viscous it is.”

“Is that really the proper procedure for—?”

“Hey, what do I look like, a materials engineer?”

Gaster made a tentacle and reached over Sans’s shoulder to reconnect with the goo in the colander, but Sans moved it away, causing some of the drips to fall outside the beaker in the process. Gaster shuddered.

“What’s that like?” Sans asked.

“It feels … weird.”

“You’re gonna have to be more descriptive. This is for science!”

“You’re not even writing anything down.”

“Ooh, you’re right. I should tape this!” Sans walked across the room to another drawer to get a tape recorder, carrying the colander with him, dripping bits of Gaster onto the floor as he went. Gaster followed after, reabsorbing the small droplets of goo.

“Okay, what’s it feel like?”

Gaster frowned at Sans’s continued slipshod record-keeping. “Distinctly uncomfortable.”

“Let’s try smaller holes.” Sans shoved the colander at him, and Gaster dumped the remaining goo back into his torso as the skeleton rummaged in another cabinet.

“I don’t think that’s… Why do you even have that?”

“From some experiments Alphys was doing on flowers.”

Sans had returned with a green plastic watering can. Gaster shrank back as he reached for a new sample of goo. Sans took a big handful anyway, and plopped it inside the watering can. He stepped back in surprise as the rest of Gaster suddenly melted, hands and face disappearing as he collapsed into a large pile on the floor.

“Whoa,” said Sans. “What happened?”

Gaster was wondering the same thing, reforming his face and eyes to see he was trapped in a circular green room. Part of the wall opened onto some kind of shaft or tunnel of the same green material, big enough to enter, but narrowing as it went on. Light streamed in from above, but he couldn’t make out anything that made sense.

“Oh, there you are,” Sans’s voice boomed, echoing from the walls. “I must have grabbed your soul by accident.”

He looked up again and made sense of what he was seeing: the top of the watering can, its opening bisected by its plastic handle, and beyond that, Sans peering in at him.

“I’m surprised your soul fits in your body when you’re that small, though,” Sans continued. “This definitely calls for further research.”

“Sans, don’t you think we should take this a bit slower?”

“Sorry, G, I can barely hear you in there.” Sans tilted the watering can so that Gaster slid toward the spout. “Next experiment: straining roughly 50 cubic centimeters of goo through three-millimeter holes, approximately.”

At least he was estimating some actual numbers, Gaster thought as he tried to stretch out his mass to avoid falling into the spout. But he couldn’t get any grip on the plastic interior of the watering can, and it didn’t seem to be in his physical nature to resist gravity very well. He didn’t remember consciously forming his hands but they were now instinctively clawing at the walls as he sank inexorably deeper into the cone of plastic.

It felt as if the walls would converge and he’d be stuck at the bottom of the cone, but he knew better. As expected, the walls suddenly widened out and the lower-most goop came to rest against a surface. Maybe he’d have enough viscosity not to drip through such tiny holes…although they seemed a lot bigger now that he’d been reduced to this size—but the properties of his goo shouldn’t have scaled down in proportion. He waited, hoping, as his lower part spread out across the hole-filled surface.

As gravity pulled more of his mass down the spout, more of his weight pressed his goo against the holes, until finally it started to extrude. Gaster felt oddly exposed as bits of him started to hang down outside his cramped plastic prison. Soon they had stretched too far and grown too bottom-heavy to stay attached, and fell away as droplets. He lost contact with them almost immediately; his range for staying connected with his goo must have shrunk in proportion with his body. He couldn’t tell what was happening to the pieces he was losing, if they were spattering on the floor, being caught in some container, or perhaps rejoining the main body of goo.

What would happen if all his goo was drained away but his soul was too big to fit through the holes? he wondered with a flash of alarm. But since his soul apparently fit in such a small amount of goo, perhaps it would fall through too? Would he exist as a droplet before he was reunited with a larger mass of his goo? That might be preferable to having his soul caught here without any goo, but neither option was terribly appealing.

The inside of the spout seemed more spacious as Gaster’s body lost mass to the continual dripping. The holes seemed bigger too, although not so big that his soul would fit through them if he manifested it at its usual size relative to himself. He hadn’t even done that since he’d gotten back from the void, so who knew what state his soul was in? Size was meaningless in the void, so perhaps it had ended up smaller than it had been before the accident.

Eventually Gaster couldn’t even try to cling to the plastic walls of the narrower part of the spout because his hands no longer reached. He squeezed his eyes shut and waited to see what would happen. But after a while, he realized that it was nothing. The dripping had stopped, the his weight no longer sufficient to press any of his goo through the holes. He was spread out like a thick film across the surface. Thank the stars for surface tension, or whatever it was allowing him to resist falling through the holes.

Now how would Sans get him out of the watering can? And did he really want to come out? He didn’t really care for being this small; it felt vulnerable. But once he was extracted from the watering can, who knew what Sans would do next?

“Is that all of you?” Sans asked, shaking the watering can, loosening another drop of goo. Gaster didn’t answer. He felt motion, the watering can being lifted higher. “You okay in there, G?” A pause. “If you don’t answer me, I’m gonna find something to poke you with.”

Gaster stayed stubbornly silent, steeling himself not to react even if Sans poked something through the holes at him. But instead, he found himself turned upside down, falling away from the holes and back through the narrowest part of the spout. He tried to brace himself against it, but his goo just wasn’t made for that; the middle part fell through, dragging the rest of him with it, and he oozed back into the main chamber.

Sans reached a hand in to grab him, but he let himself flow around the phalanges. Undeterred, Sans tipped over the watering can to pour him out. But it had enough of a rim around the top that he could avoid flowing out if he just kept himself thin and pressed against the wall.

The watering can righted itself, and Gaster tried to climb back up the spout, to no avail. “Don’t be so difficult, G.” Sans sounded annoyed. Gaster redoubled his efforts, and actually made it a little ways into the spout before he slid back out. His momentum carried him out into the center of the main chamber, and as he recovered his proverbial footing, he was suddenly buried in an avalanche of blackness from above.

It was more of his goo. He felt relief as he incorporated it—he couldn’t have helped it, anyway, once it made physical contact—but as he reformed his face and hands he realized it was a trick. Sans reached in and grabbed him, now that there was more of him to grab (and it didn’t hurt that he was disoriented from incorporating several times the amount of goo he’d had just a moment ago). He tried to flow through Sans’s fingers—it wasn’t as if bare phalanges were really particularly good for holding fluids—but Sans was too quick, and all he managed was to leave a few dollops of goo inside the watering can as Sans scooped him out and transferred him to another container.

“Sans, wait, I’ve left some of myself in there.” Gaster formed a tentacle to reach into the watering can and get it back.

“That’s what you get for not cooperating.” Sans set the watering can aside. “Next experiment. What happens when we mix the goo with other substances?”

“Oh stars, no!”

***

“Come on, G, don’t be like that.” Sans tested the cabinet door, but it remained shut tight. “Come out and I’ll give you a brownie.”

There was no response. Actually, he wasn’t sure if Gaster could still eat in his new form.

“Okay, that was in poor taste. But the brownies aren’t; they taste fine.”

He fancied that the door was remaining shut _angrily,_ and it was probably pretty accurate.

He sighed in resignation. “Okay, G, you’re right. I took it too far.” He waited a few seconds and tried the door again. It swung open with a click; only blackness was visible inside. Another pause and Gaster’s face peered out at him.

“Consider it payback,” Sans said. Gaster knew what he’d done to Sans in the past.

Gaster glared at him, or his less droopy eye did.

“You’re fine, right? No harm done.” Sans let his voice grow a little bitter. The same couldn’t be said for him and his one HP.

“Do I look fine?” Gaster finally spoke.

“You look like a pile of goop, but that ain’t _my_ fault.”

“What if I had dissolved in that water?”

“You didn’t, did you?”

“You let me fall a distance of a hundred times my height.”

“I didn’t know you were gonna jump out of the pan.” Sans politely refrained from pointing out that Gaster didn’t really have much of a set height anymore.

“That makes it even worse!” Gaster started to ooze out of the cabinet in order to get his face on Sans’s eye level, and then kept going, towering over him. “It took me hours to get back to the rest of my body. You could have stepped on me.”

Sans was unfazed. “Like I said, you’re the one who jumped out and left most of your goo behind. And it was more like half an hour.”

“You were going to bake me!”

“And? I already knew heat doesn’t damage you.”

“Because you boiled me in a kettle!”

“Hey, I worked up to it.” It wasn’t like he hadn’t tried lower temperatures first.

“Brownie mix? Seriously?” Gaster loomed closer.

Sans shrugged. “My hypothesis was that void goo makes a good egg replacer. And it was kinda right?”

“And you felt the need to involve my soul in this and not just use a sample of disconnected goo?” Gaster hissed. “What if you’d eaten it?”

Sans dropped his impertinent smile, leaning back as Gaster leaned forward. He found himself resting against some tentacles that Gaster had extended around behind him. “Okay, you’re right. I took it too far. Take it easy, G.” He glanced nervously to the side as smaller tentacles creeped around his arms.

Sans looked back at Gaster’s face. He didn’t think he’d ever seen him this angry, although it was hard to compare his facial expressions between now and before the accident. “What are you gonna do to me, G?” He guessed he deserved it, whatever it was. And if Gaster messed up and dusted him, that would save him a very awkward timeline. Hopefully he’d gotten it all out of his system now and wouldn’t take his frustrations out on anyone like this in the next timeline. He couldn’t end up like Flowey—he wouldn’t end up like Flowey. He had a soul, at least. Then again, Frisk had a soul too, and it hadn’t stopped them killing Sans and everyone he knew and cared about countless times.

Not that any of this mattered. Frisk would always reset again. This was far from the first time he’d been reunited with Gaster. He relaxed into the tentacles and waited. Gaster glared down at him, ooze dripping from his body but his grip on Sans still firm, probably further enraged by the fact that Sans wasn’t scared of him, but Sans couldn’t be bothered to pretend.

A metal measuring cup dropped out of what might have been Gaster’s neck and hit the floor with a clang. Both monsters turned to look at it.

“I, uh, picked up a bunch of stuff that was in the cabinet.” Gaster shrank a bit closer to his normal height. “Help me get it out, please.” The primary mass of ooze shifted, and one by one the corners and edges of some containers and instruments poked out of the surface.

“Oh. Sure.” Sans stood up straight and started pulling things out, setting them haphazard on the counter and being sure to pour any errant bits of goo back into Gaster’s body.

**Author's Note:**

> If any new readers click through, be warned that most of my stuff is really fetishy.  
> "Sans and the Dragon" is probably the tamest, if you're curious.


End file.
